Pursuit
by Cherielynn
Summary: Part Two of the story "Potion." Sherlock's experimental love potion is working perfectly. John has fallen under Sherlock's chemical spell.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock's experimental love potion is working perfectly. John has fallen under Sherlock's chemical spell.

"Come, John," Sherlock murmured in the doctor's ear. "Let's get you inside."

John had been resting his cheek on Sherlock's chest for the past few miles and was loathe to move away from his delicious scent. As Sherlock's long fingers caressed his cheek and neck, it only heightened the euphoric feelings racing around in his brain. Sherlock didn't mind this, did he? John wasn't sure anymore. This had to be okay. It felt so damn good.

"All right," he said dreamily and lifted his head to sit up. The moment Sherlock tried to pull away from John in order to open his door, John let out a moan of despair. "No, wait," he said reaching for the detective.

Sherlock chuckled, "It's going to be fine, John. Let's go inside and we can…"Sherlock hesitated at using such a mundane word for what he wanted to do to John. "Snuggle some more." He finished, grimacing at the idea. Sherlock Holmes didn't snuggle.

"Yes, I'd like that," John said and almost leapt out of the cab to bound up to the door of 221b. He waited on the balls of his feet for Sherlock to pay the cab driver and join him at the door.

So eager, Sherlock thought, delighted at the effects of his formula. John showed all the classic signs of sexual desire, eyes wide, alert, pupils dilated, and lips parted.

It took all his reserve not to race to the front door and slide home the key. He placed his large hand on the small of John's back and guided him inside the entry way. He noticed Mrs. Hudson's darkened door signifying her absence from 221a. Out for the weekend he remembered. Just as well, he thought, as they might have a difficult time explaining the sounds he intended to have John Watson make tonight.

John lost no time shedding his coat, gloves and scarf and moved to help Sherlock out of his outerwear. "Want to watch some telly?" he asked sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to him.

"All right," Sherlock said. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, no," John said an anxious edge creeping into his voice. "Just come sit here," he patted the seat next to him more insistently.

Sherlock might have been indignant at being called to heel like a dog if he hadn't wanted to continue his experiment. He took two strides across the room and sat next to John. Without his overcoat muffling the scent, John was able to take another long sniff the moment Sherlock moved in next to him.

John's eyes rolled as he closed them in delight. He took two handfuls of Sherlock's shirt and pulled him close. He floated on the heady mixture of Sherlock's unique scent of chemicals, tobacco and… this exotic fragrance. The craving that gnawed in John's gut began to spread into his loins urging his cock to expand and engorge. He wanted to kiss Sherlock and draw him even closer, touch him all over, engulf him entirely, but something clearly held him back. Even though all his senses screamed for him draw close, his normal reserve told him not to push this moment too far. What if he were annoying his flat mate, repulsing him? They were romantically involved! Why did his fevered brain insist they were? He tried one last time to pull himself away. Maybe if he went up to his room, he could clear his head.

He tried standing up, but Sherlock sensed the doctor's intent and reached out to hold John's face in his hands. He stared into his half-closed eyes a moment. John's desire, clearly evident could no longer be denied. This is exactly what Sherlock wanted, pliant, receptive John. All his! He had to act now, or he may lose this tenuous chance his chemical cocktail had provided. Sherlock's heart misgave for just a moment. He knew, deep down this wasn't how he should have seduced the doctor, but now that he had John in this moment, he couldn't stop himself.

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth over John's lips. John moaned into the kiss. He kissed back, starting slow then turning insistent, ardent and then frantic. Sherlock's tongue slipped into his mouth; he used his thumbs to push John's jaw down so he could deepen the kiss. A low rumble began down in Sherlock's chest, and he could hear the possessive growl grow until he nearly roared his desire down John's throat.

John responded by giving as good as he got and ran his hands over Sherlock's face, neck and down his arms. Each breath only increased the dizzy feeling of intoxication and his need to breathe more of Sherlock's scent. Touching the long, pale limbs brought fresh wafts of scent to John's nostrils making him rub his hands over Sherlock's chest and back. He wanted to drown in the essence of Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock pulled back a little and brought John's head down to his chest and held it there feeling John's labored breathing. He had sprayed a concentration of the scent directly over his heart earlier, and now he buried John's face in it. The doctor panted in tight little gasps, and he squirmed against Sherlock's embrace trying to turn his head back up to those plush lips for another kiss. Sherlock kept his head tightly held in place to maximize John's exposure. A few more minutes of breathing in the concentrated mixture, and John would find himself unable to resist anything Sherlock asked of him.

"Calmly, John. We can take this as slow as you like," Sherlock said rubbing John's back as his friend breathed in and out. "Are you sure? Do you want this?" he asked. John would remember him asking tomorrow. He would also remember grabbing handfuls of Sherlock's dark curls and pulling him close to answer, "God, yes" as well. It wasn't as if he were taking him against John's will.


	2. Chapter 2

John sat on Sherlock's bed rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He took a few deep breaths of the fresh air and looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "Hey," he said and held out his hand. "Come sit next to me."

Sherlock removed his jacket and hung it up on a hanger in his wardrobe. He took his time toeing off his shoes and unbuttoning his white button up shirt. John watched each move he made with a hunger that made Sherlock's brain sing with pleasure. He moved his long-fingered hands slowly downward to unzip his flies and let his trousers drop to the floor in a silken puddle.

Sherlock stalked forward slowly keeping his eyes on John's. He straddled John's thighs pressing the side of John's face into his abdomen. John inhaled again and closed his eyes.

"I can't get enough of you today, Sherlock. I know we've never done this, but I want…"

"Shhh," Sherlock said stroking John's short cropped hair. "Let me just hold you like this for a while. I've wanted this, whatever this is, for a long time, John."

The detective stood in his position for a few more minutes stroking the back and sides of John's head. John reached around and cupped Sherlock's ass in both hands. He moved them down along the back of Sherlock's long, muscular thighs and then back up to the soft round swells again.

John turned his head forward and took deep breaths of Sherlock's scent. "Would you take off your pants?" he asked, and Sherlock's stomach flipped over.

"You're sure?"

John nodded. He licked his bottom lip and followed the movement of Sherlock's hands as he reached for the waistband of his pants and hooked his thumbs in and pulled them down, freeing his cock. John's eyes flicked back up to meet Sherlock's intent gaze.

"Now you," Sherlock said, voice guttural with lust. "Take off your jumper and shirt."

Keeping eye contact with his flatmate, John reached down to grab the hem of his jumper and pull it over his head in one smooth motion. He toed off his shoes and then began unbuttoning the top button of this shirt. Sherlock let out a small moan and re-straddled John's lap placing his thighs over John's and resting his knees on the bed next to John's hips.

John breathed in sharply, inhaling more of the heady fragrance. Sherlock's cock swelled when he saw John's jaw going slack with desire. Sherlock took over in unbuttoning John's shirt and flicked open each button carefully as if unwrapping a work of art. John's vest peeked through, and Sherlock almost moaned in frustration. "How many layers do you wear, John?" he asked pushing the plaid shirt off the doctor's shoulders and down his arms.

"Just because you usually can't be bothered to disturb the clean line of your designer suits doesn't mean everyone goes commando," John said smiling. "I see you did manage to wear pants today, however," he said huskily running both hands up Sherlock's chest. "This is all right? Isn't it?" John asked again continuing to touch and rub his hands across Sherlock pectorals and deltoids. The skin-to-skin contact brought the fragrance back up to full potency, and John inhaled deeply.

Sherlock marveled at the fact that the scent didn't seem to affect him at all. He already desired John more than he had desired any other thing in the world. "Of course, it's all right, John. I've wanted you to touch me for a very long time now."

"Good, " murmured John. He looked into Sherlock's blue-green eyes and suddenly surged forward and locked their mouths together. They kissed long and deep. John's tongue reached into Sherlock's mouth insistently, and his kisses became fierce and demanding. Sherlock pulled back panting with desire and pushed John onto his bed by the shoulders. He gripped both of John's wrists and pulled his arms over his head, pinning them to the bed. John wriggled, but Sherlock shifted himself so he could lay fully over John's body. He pressed one knee between John's legs and pushed them open wider.

"Take your trousers off, John," Sherlock huffed into his ear. I want to see you, feel you…"

"You're going to have to give me back at least one hand then," John said trying to break Sherlock's grip and finally succeeding. He reached down and undid his flies quickly pulling his trousers down over his knees and kicking them off. His pants came next, and finally his full cock rested on his belly. The minute Sherlock saw it he covered the length of it in his hand causing John to cry out, "Christ, Sherlock!"

He moved the heel of his hand up and down the shaft and used his fingertips to gently massage the head of John's cock. John lost all coherency and simply moaned with pleasure. "God that's good, Sher…"

But he never finished that sentence because Sherlock moved down the length of John's body and took him into this mouth. Sherlock reveled in the musky taste of this man that he'd risked everything for. Moving his tongue gently up and down, he wanted this to last as long as possible. John moaned above him and wove his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "That's so nice," he said tossed his head to one side. "Your tongue is magic, Sherlock you're making me dizzy…"

Sherlock drew off John and looked up at the doctor, concern written on his face. Perhaps he should draw back and allow John some time to recover. He might have concentrated the potion too strong. But John had other ideas. He grabbed Sherlock's head and hauled him back up to lie next to him on the bed. "Come here, you," he panted and latched on for another kiss.

Sherlock could kiss John for hours. John wouldn't let him go now anyway so Sherlock gave in and gathered the army doctor into his arms and fed his desires with kisses, stroking, and hunger born of repressed passion. All John needed was this nudge, Sherlock thought, and he'd never have to use the potion again. It would work out fine.

Sherlock set to work satisfying all of his, and John's desires. In the morning, they would talk and discover this was how it was meant to be all along.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock awoke the next morning with golden light streaming through the partially closed curtains of his bedroom. John lie next to him snoring gently, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. Sherlock watched him breathe, hoping he'd stay that way all day. He wanted nothing more than to watch the rise and fall of John's chest and relive the each tender moment he'd spent with John last night.

He could have stayed here all morning had his traitorous bladder not signaled his need to pee. He waited as long as he could before he carefully eased himself off the bed and tiptoed to the toilet. He decided not to flush lest it wake John. He ran his hands under a quiet stream of water to wash them and rub some water on his sleep encrusted eyes. He used a damp flannel to clean himself up after their lovemaking last night. He wanted to brush his teeth but opted instead to swish some mouthwash around to counter his morning breath. When he got back to the bed, John had just begun to move into wakefulness. Sherlock resumed his previous position next to John so he would be the first thing he saw when he awoke.

Nervous fluttering swept through Sherlock at the thought that the effects of the potion would have worn off, and John might regret his decision to have sex with Sherlock. But when John opened his eyes and saw Sherlock lying next to him, he smiled at him warmly. His heart bloomed with happiness as John opened up his arms to receive him in a hug.

"Com'ere you," John said in what Sherlock considered to be a very appealing early morning growl. John nuzzled into Sherlock's neck and began giving him little fluttering kisses. It almost seemed involuntary, as if he couldn't stop himself.

Sherlock hoped that this might be an aftereffect of the potion. Once the floodgates of John's libido had been opened, he might let out all his physical passion for Sherlock flow freely. Delighted, he began to return John's kisses until they he began to feel himself growing hard and interested again. John's hands had begun roving along his body caressing and touching him all over. Sherlock bemusedly thought that he could get used to this level of physical contact from his doctor when a new sense of urgency began to overcome John.

The once soft kisses turned ardent and hard, John gripped the sides of Sherlock's face and held him in place so his tongue could reach ever further down Sherlock's throat. John barely let him breathe in his urgency to kiss, lick and suck at his lips.

"Slow down, John," Sherlock managed to say between Joh's lips. "We've got all morning."

"I want you now," John growled deeper pushing Sherlock's arms up over his head in a demanding tussle. He had considerable strength for someone who'd just woken up. John maneuvered his legs between the detective's knees and pushed them apart. He gripped both of Sherlock's wrists in one hand and used the other to reach between Sherlock's legs and stroke his cock.

Sherlock gasped at the touch. John used his fingertips at first to gently tease him to fullness, and when he'd grown as hard as he could, John used his hand to grip his length. He squeezed until it became uncomfortable and Sherlock yelped, "John, too much!"

"You can handle it, Sherlock," John said in his ear. "I know you can take it and much, much more. I'm going to tear you apart, and you're going to love every minute of it."

Sherlock's eagerness to continue suddenly took a nosedive. He tried to disengage himself from John's grip but found John's strength a match for his own. John's hand left his crotch and rocketed back up to his wrists. His knee found Sherlock's sensitive balls and pressed in.

"You'd better stay still, Sherlock. I'm not finished with you yet," John said aggressively.

"John," Sherlock said uneasily. "I think we'd better take a break."

"Oh no. You smell divine. I want to drink you in," John said scenting up and down his neck, chest and belly. "I dreamt of you all night, and now that I have you here, I'm not letting you go anywhere. I haven't got work today so we can stay in bed as long as we want."

On the surface, John's words should have made him deliriously happy, but he felt a sudden chill shoot through him as John locked his gaze with him. There was a fanatical light in the doctor's eye. This wasn't his John at all. Something was very wrong. The effects of the potion should have worn away by now, but seemed instead to have grown stronger.

Sherlock began to squirm away from John's grip but suddenly John shot out one arm and grabbed the belt from the dressing gown Sherlock had draped over the headboard of his bed. Using some very clever moves, John had Sherlock's wrists bound to the headboard. It happened so fast; he couldn't believe the doctor had incapacitated him so thoroughly. He tugged at the restraints, but the knots held strong. John shot down along Sherlock's body and held both legs apart while he inhaled Sherlock's scent again. "I can't get enough of you," he said and began licking up Sherlock's stomach and chest.

"John stop!" Sherlock shouted. This had gone too far. He'd only wanted to push John to him, to help him understand how much better they'd be together like this. But, his formula had twisted the gentle lovemaking from last night into a harsh and inescapable act of desperation. John's eyes had turned fierce, his face distorted by lust. He reared up and leered at Sherlock.

"No," John said. "I'm going to ravish you until I give out. And, the way I'm feeling, that won't be anytime soon. "

"Untie me, John," Sherlock pleaded. "I have something to tell you."

But John wasn't interested in what Sherlock had to say. His eyes searched near the bed until he found a sock that had been discarded the previous night. He grabbed it up and used it as a gag to stuff into Sherlock's mouth. "There," John said. "No more interruptions."

Horrified, Sherlock began to suspect he'd made a huge mistake. He'd known the effect of the potion was cumulative, but the chemicals should have left John's system by now. The sock tasted horrible, and he almost choked trying to push it back out. John put one hand over Sherlock's mouth keeping it in and Sherlock could only grunt in frustration. He thrashed about, but John straddled his thighs keeping them secure while he tweaked Sherlock's nipples painfully.

This couldn't be happening! His wonderful, considerate John had turned into a lust-filled monster. As John continued licking and kissing down his body, Sherlock knew he had only himself to blame for this terrible turn. He must have miscalculated the dose or kept John exposed too long. If only he'd showered the rest of the scent off. John must be getting more of it in his system right now. It had sent him into a frenzy.

With John's attentions on his lower half, Sherlock was finally able to push the sock out of this mouth.

"John, I drugged you," he shouted hoping to cut through the haze.

John paused in his attentions for just a moment. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the detective. "Hmmm," he murmured. "Well, for once I don't mind. I like this drug," he said and let his hand drift down again to Sherlock's cock. He reached over to the nightstand where the bottle of lube had been carelessly tossed the night before and squeezed a generous amount onto his hand. He lay on top of Sherlock and lined up their cocks together. Sherlock had grown soft, but John didn't seem to mind a bit as he slicked them both up and began rubbing them together. Perhaps if he let John finish and come, he'd be more likely to untie him and he might be able to get to the shower to wash off the damning scent.

So he tried to relax and allow John to work him back to hardness. John's breathing became uneven, and Sherlock knew he was close to climaxing. His own orgasm however hovered just outside of reach. He felt too overwhelmed and tense to allow it to happen. John's rhythm sped up and he began to feel chaffed. Finally, John let out a groan, and Sherlock felt warm come splash his belly and run down the inside of his thigh.

John stopped rubbing him and grateful for the reprieve; he tried to speak again. "John, untie me, please. I have to take a shower. I'm covered in come."

John looked up at him and grinned wickedly. Yes, and I've got more where that came from. Just give me a few minutes and I'll…"

"No, John. I need to shower. I promise, you'll feel much better if you let me wash it off." Sherlock felt one of the knots finally loosen, and he tried to work his hands out. He just needed to get into the shower. Perhaps he could salvage this situation if he broke free now. John hadn't hurt him, not yet.

John leaned in and breathed in another lungful of scent. His eyes never left Sherlock's as he pumped more lube onto his fingers. "I want to fuck you next," he said, and Sherlock felt cold, slick fingers begin to slide inside him. He threw his head back onto the pillow, "No John, I'm not ready for this. "

"I know, Luv. I'll prepare you well. I don't want to hurt you, but I do want you. I never thought I would want this, but now, it's all I can think about," John said. "The more I get of you, the more I want," he growled as he pushed a third finger inside Sherlock and began scissoring them back and forth. "I'll make you feel as wonderful as I do right now. Having you at my mercy like this just stokes the fire. I just might keep you like this forever."

"I know you don't mean this, John. Think! I've done something to you, and now I wish I hadn't. Please, John, go up to your room and open the window. I promise this feeling will pass if you get some air." He'd grown frantic as John's fingers moved faster in his hole. He'd begun to stroke his prostrate and little electric shocks of pleasure had begun to create a delectable frission. His cock swelled again and John's eyes latched onto it. He leaned forward and engulfed Sherlock into his mouth. Even under the potion's spell, he skillfully licked and sucked. Sherlock tried to ignore the incredible feelings washing over him. He deserved none of them. He'd betrayed his friend and now, to his horror, he was getting exactly what he wanted. The phrase "Be careful what you wish for" kept circling over and over in his mind. He focused all his concentration on wriggling free from his bonds. He had to stop for a moment as John's fingers found the perfect, pleasure spot inside him and he simultaneously sped up his stroke on his cock. All thoughts of freeing himself evaporated one of the hardest orgasms of his life overtook him. He arched his back and rode it out.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock," John said wiping come off his lips. The sight of seeing John so debauched made Sherlock's insides roil. Even though John had taken him in such a violent manner, he knew it had been him who'd violated his friend. Sherlock despaired inside. John would never forgive him for this, how could he?

John lay his head on Sherlock's chest. "I need a few minutes, Sherlock, and then I can go again," John said. He sounded tired, sleepy.

Sherlock slumped in his bonds and felt the one he'd been working at finally slide down his wrist. He'd loosened it enough. While John's eyes weren't on him, he carefully slid one hand out and used it to untie the other. He'd need to pin John down long enough to get away and get to the shower. Once in the bathroom, he could lock the door and wash himself off.

Before he could execute his plan, he felt John's breathing even out and heard soft little snores. John had fallen asleep.


End file.
